Floyd Lawton
by Jak Pickens
Summary: As Selina attempts to escape the clutches of the assassins sent after her, she takes Bruce to an old friend's apartment to spend the night. However, involving her friend in her problems may lead him down an unwanted path that no one could have foreseen.


**Floyd Lawton**

 **A/N: Just a heads up for anyone who isn't extremely familiar with Season 1 of GOTHAM, the second episode follows the story of Child Snatchers who abduct street kids and, later in the episode, Selina is taken. Earlier in the episode, two victims are thrown into the basement of a chemical store along with the other kids who'd already been kidnapped. In that scene, there's a black teenage boy in the corner who asks the two new kids if they have any cigarettes. Since I saw him in that scene, I've** **theorized that he was a young Floyd Lawton.** **I'm just clarifying this because Selina and Floyd talk about the whole Child Snatchers incident and I realized later on that my intentions might not have come across clearly.**

 **Also, in the real story the assassins arrive at Wayne Manor in the morning, but in my story, they arrive at late afternoon-sunset.**

 **Hope you enjoy :)**

"You won't make it!" Selina yelled as Bruce sprinted towards the edge of a building. Sure enough, he didn't listen and launched himself across the gap between the two buildings. Selina thought: _This is it; this kid's gonna die…_

A second later, Bruce's feet made contact with the edge, but he came up slightly short and had to flail his arms to stay on the ledge. Selina rushed forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him down off the edge and onto the roof.

She scorned, "You're crazy!"

In a high voice, Bruce responded, "Please don't run off again, I'm out of breath…"

Smirking, Selina nodded. "Okay kiddo, you earned it. You wanna hang with me, that's cool but my world, my rules; you do what I say."

Bruce nodded and shakily answered, "Yes ma'am."

After a brief stop at The Flea to get Bruce new clothes, the pair made their way deeper into the Narrows until they came upon an old, brick apartment complex. Bruce asked, "Why are we here?"

"I have a friend who might let us crash here for the night. At least, if he doesn't kill us first…"

Bruce's eyes widened and he asked, "You're joking, right?"

She turned away from him and shrugged. They made their way to the front doors and found a small, dark foyer. Selina nodded towards the staircases and they made their way up to the 8th floor. By the end of it, Bruce was completely out of breath and even Selina seemed to be a bit winded. "Come on," Selina demanded and they walked down the hall to apartment 812. She hesitated slightly before knocking on the door. A few tense seconds past until they heard the bolt unlock and the door opened up by just a hair. Inside, Bruce spied an African-American teen boy, probably around Selina's age, staring at them. Selina said, "Hey, Floyd."

Apparently the teen recognized Selina, because he cracked a grin and greeted, "Hey Cat." Opening up the door all the way, he asked, "What's up?"

She shrugged, "Nothing much. I was just looking for a place to crash tonight."

He asked, "Police onto ya?"

She smiled a bit and told him, "Yeah, you could say that… Can we come in?"

He moved away from the door and Selina led Bruce into the small, dark apartment. Bruce saw Floyd put a shiny, silver object inside a desk drawer which he locked. "So," he began, "what's _really_ going on?"

Bruce asked, "What?"

Selina brushed off Bruce's confusion and told Floyd, "It's a long story."

Floyd asked Bruce, "Who are you, by the way? You clearly aren't from around here."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

"The tiger print on your shirt…a dead giveaway that Cat picked the clothes out for you. That and your hands aren't calloused." Floyd smirked, "Besides, just don't seem like the type, so, who are you?"

Figuring there was no point in lying and ignoring a look from Selina, Bruce answered truthfully. "My name's Bruce Wayne."

Selina muttered, "I swear if you tell one more person that…"

Floyd glanced at Selina and asked, "Is _this_ where you've been since the whole Child Snatcher's thing? Hanging out with the one percent?"

Selina rolled her eyes and switched topic, "So, about us crashing here…"

"Sure thing, you'll just owe me two favors now," Floyd said.

"Whatever."

"You can take the bedroom, and Brucey and I'll take the couches." He opened his arms, gesturing to his entire apartment and said, "Make yourselves at home."

After about fifteen minutes, Floyd got up from his couch and went into the bedroom where Selina was rummaging through his single dresser. "Wow, you just can't help yourself, can you?" he asked in a disapproving tone.

She practically jumped out of her skin, whirling around to see who it was. She explained, "I was just looking for a pair of socks, mine got ruined a few days back."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure that's all you were doing." Rolling his eyes, Floyd sat on the end of the bed and asked, "How are you?"

Selina seemed taken aback and told him, "Minus the fact that assassins are hunting me and now I have a twelve year old that has never missed a meal in his life to take care of…I'm doing great. How about you? After the whole Child Snatching thing…"

"I'm fine, really." He paused. "You know," he chuckled, "I honestly thought I was dead and in hell. Then, I got taken _again_ by those psychos on that damn bus."

"And you saved me from getting shot by that bitch," Selina finished. "Floyd, you took a freaking bullet for me…" She went silent. "I'm sorry I'm dragging you into my problems again."

"Hey," he waited until she looked at him, "we survived winter in the Narrows in Gotham as five year olds. We protect each other." When she didn't respond, he asked, "So, who is this Bruce kid anyways? How do you know him?"

She proceeded to tell him everything about how she'd seen the Wayne murders, got caught by the police, escaped, got caught by the police again, told a guy named Detective Gordon she'd seen the murderer's face, got sent to live with the Waynes, and ended up here. When she was done, Floyd told her, "Sounds like you two have been through a lot…" He stood up and told her, "I'll let you get some rest. Night, Cat."

She told him goodnight and he left, closing the door behind him. Reentering the main room, he noticed that Bruce was sitting up and had a familiar looking silver object in his hands. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "That's my gun!"

Bruce nodded and said, "I know. Why would you have one?"

"To _defend_ myself, obviously! Why else would anyone have a gun?"

"To kill people," Bruce responded in a flat tone. "To commit crimes; to take lives or ruin them or both. All a gun does is destroy and kill."

"Well thanks for that, Brucey. You're _massively_ privileged point of view is so very valuable to me." Floyd shot back in a sarcastic voice. "Now give me my gun back, or I'll take it from you."

Bruce glared at him and asked, "Do you know how my parents died? They were murdered by a gun similar to this one…"

"What about it?" Floyd demanded. "Almost all pistols look like that; what's your point?"

"My _point_ is that by owning this gun you could kill someone…"

"Well guess what, kid, I already have! I've killed before, with a gun. I know what it's like firsthand, so don't you _dare_ sit there and lecture me about what a gun can or can't do." Bruce seemed to be in shock so Floyd took the opportunity and snatched his pistol out of the younger boy's hands. He marched over to his desk, opened up the drawer, slid his gun in, and locked it again. "You know, you're lucky that Selina is friends with you, because otherwise, you'd be dead already." With this, he threw himself into one of the couches and turned away from the younger boy. Floyd realized that his own eyes were tearing up and wiped them away before Bruce could see. That kid, he'd uncovered some bad memories…memories that Floyd had spent a long time burying.

That night, he dreamt about the day he'd killed his best friend, his older brother, Eddie. Floyd had just gotten home from school when he heard his mother and father shouting at each other. They'd started doing it a lot lately, and the arguments seemed to last longer and longer every time. To escape it, Floyd went to play in the backyard with the slingshot his brother had made for him. Spotting a squirrel, he took a pebble from the gravel that led to the house and loaded it. He waited until the squirrel stopped moving, until he was calm and believed he was safe. Pulling back the sling, he aimed, breathed in and out like his brother had taught him, and let it fly. The squirrel never even saw it coming. The pebble hit the small creature in the head, knocking it off his fence and out onto the sidewalk that lined their property. Floyd sighed, disappointed that he'd never get to know what would become of the animal, but the silence didn't last long. A loud bang cracked through the air, a sound that made Floyd's heart jump in fear. He scampered up into his tree house to see into his parent's window. He saw Eddie standing over his father, gun in hand, aimed towards his dad. Panicking, Floyd grabbed his brother's old hunting rifle from the corner and aimed it at the pistol, and not thinking, he fired.

Floyd hadn't used that tree house in two years, ever since a major storm had rolled into Gotham and caused the branch that supported the fort to crack slightly. His father had never gotten around to take the tree house down. Suddenly, just as he shot the rifle, the tree branch finally gave in to his weight and it snapped clean off.

He didn't see what happened next. When he fell, his head hit the ground really hard and his vision went fuzzy. But, before he was completely out of it, he heard a sound that he'd never forget: his mother screaming.

He was drenched in sweat when he woke up the next morning. Selina and Bruce were already eating breakfast at the small table in the corner of the room.

He wiped a few stray tears from his eyes and took some heavy breaths before getting up and approaching the small table.

Selina told him that they were about to leave, saying that they needed to go talk to Clyde the Fence. He nodded and in a minute or two, they were ready to leave. Selina told Bruce to wait outside for a second, which he clearly didn't like. When the door closed fully, Selina did something that caught Floyd completely off guard; she hugged him. It'd been a long time since Floyd had been hugged, so it took him a second to adapt. His arms eventually made it around Selina's waist and they stood for a moment. She released him and said, "I'm so sorry, Floyd. After Eddie…I should've been there for you."

Floyd gripped her shoulders and joked, "Who are you and what have you done with Selina Kyle?" She huffed and he asked, "But, seriously though, are you alright?"

She shook her head. "I don't know what to do with… _him_." She nodded towards the door. "Like…he's really sensitive and naïve and…"

"Well, he clearly likes you," Floyd pointed out.

"Obviously."

"I'd try to keep it light with him; let him know that you're just a friend, if that's what you want. And, at all costs, keep him out of the Narrows."

"Why?"

"Something about him… I don't know what exactly. He just seems like he'd be trouble for people like us." She nodded and made to leave, but something in Floyd made him do something irrational: he reached out and grabbed her hand.

She turned back and he kissed her lightly on the cheek. Heart still pounding, he smiled weakly and said, "You shouldn't keep the kid waiting."

She smiled a bit. Her cheeks had blushed red and as she walked off he noticed a little bit of a skip in her step. When the door closed, Floyd sank into the couch and breathed out heavily.

A few hours later, Floyd returned to his apartment.

As he reached the door, a cold feeling shot through his spine, the handle had been broken off and the door had been pried open. Reaching for his gun, his hand came up empty. He'd left his pistol in the locked drawer after arguing with the Wayne kid.

Approaching cautiously, he nudged the door open a bit more and, thinking the coast was clear, he entered the apartment.

That's when a heavy force hit the back of his skull and he doubled over.

He'd been ambushed.

Trying to find his attacker, he whipped around and found a knife at his throat. A woman, probably in her early thirties, was glaring at him. She demanded, "Where is Selina Kyle?"

For some odd reason, Floyd smirked and replied sarcastically, "You're trespassing."

The woman removed the knife from his throat and slammed his head and body onto the hard, wood floor. He felt his lungs compress as the wind left his body and he gasped for breath. "I don't like to repeat myself," she put the knife directly above his right eye and commanded, "tell me where to find the girl, or you'll never see anything ever again."

"Go to hell," Floyd croaked. Her eyes narrowed and the last thing Floyd remembered was a knife plunging towards his face. That, and excruciating pain like he'd never felt before, like his head had been split clean open.

He woke up in his own bed, blinking rapidly to get used to the light. He reached up and found his right eye had a patch over it. Sitting up, Floyd noticed a tape recorder across the room. He pressed 'play' and heard a man's voice saying:

"Hello, Mr. Lawton. My name is Hugo Strange, and I'm a doctor. You've been in and out of surgeries for the last week, but I finally believe that your right eye has been completely restored to its proper state. You may find that your vision, in both eyes in fact, is even better than it was before the attack. Now, please remove the bandage from your right eye. The implant, also known as the Horus Eye, behind your retina may take some time to get used to. However, I believe that someone like you has the perfect…skill set to use the implant to its best ability. Thank you for your cooperation and farewell."

The tape clicked off and Floyd stood, frozen. Moving towards the dusty mirror he had on his wall, he peeled off the bandage and when he opened his right eye, he was overwhelmed with thousands of tiny details.

He closed it to regain his composure and then reopened his eyes. This time, it seemed like both of his eyes were doing the thing. Every little bit of movement was almost…highlighted. For a few moments, he felt nauseous but a new emotion soon washed over him: curiosity.

Moving to his window, he glanced across the street and down into the park where he spotted a million things that he would've never noticed before, from stray cats on the prowl to two men in sunglasses talking on a park bench in low voices. It seemed as though his eyes were like binoculars, or, better yet, a scope.

Floyd breathed in and out, shaking his head as he thought over everything that had just happened. That's when a single word crossed his mind: _Selina_.

He had to find her.


End file.
